1 Dog Collar Crime (13 page)

He shrugged. “No sweat. You’re my sister. I’ll always take care of you. Besides, Dad would kill me if I didn’t.”

“Well, there you go.”

“What?”

“Isn’t it funny that no matter how old we are we’re still afraid of him?”

“There’s still a lot to be afraid of.”

That wasn’t the point, but she should have known better. Joey would never change. He would always allow their father’s influence to guide him. Simple as that. Maybe he was happy that way. Did she have a right to question it? A soft humming noise caught in her ears while she watched Otis sniff around his favorite tree. “Go pee, Otis.”

A car turned the corner, slowed, and Lucie’s temples throbbed. When did a car inching along suddenly put her in a panicked state?

She watched them go by and caught a glimpse of the passenger. Didn’t recognize him. Paranoid. That’s what she was. “Onward ho, boys.”

Otis made his way to the next tree and stopped. From behind, a car door slammed and they shifted to see a man running at them.

Joey slid in front of Lucie. “Again? These guys are starting to irritate me. Run, Luce. I got this.”

The hammering at her temples should have blown a hole right through her skull. She gave the leash a tug. “Let’s go, Otis.”

He continued his sniffing as Joey charged the guy.

“Otis!” The dog lifted his head in question. “Let’s go.” Nothing.
Dammit
.

“Run, Luce,” Joey hollered just before he tackled the would-be assailant. The two men rolled on the ground, punches flying, and Lucie jerked the leash.

Otis wouldn’t move.

A hysterical bubble of laughter shot up her throat. The laughing could only be her sanity taking leave. She’d have to carry the dog—not an easy task. She bent low, scooped him into her arms and straightened. The tension in her back could have cracked her in two, but she focused on steadying the wiggling canine. “Stay still.”

As usual, Otis wasn’t listening. He was busy staring up at her and licking her chin while she half ran, half walked past her brawling brother and the attacker.

Get to the Lutzes’ garage
. Her quasi walk-run caused Otis to slip, but she hefted him against her chest. A stream of air exploded from her mouth.
Don’t drop him
.
Get to the garage.

She gave him another good boost to strengthen her hold and he arched his back to get loose. Then the licking started again. That big, wet tongue slapping across her cheek. She craned out of his reach.

“Otis, we have to get to the garage.”

She continued the crazy gallop toward the house and, with quaking arms, set Otis down to punch in the garage code. She caught a glimpse of Joey hammering his fists into their attacker.

Once inside the garage, she smacked her fingers across the button to close the door and ran into the house. She should call the police. Shouldn’t she?

She ran to the front window and Otis, thinking it was playtime, leaped at her, his paws connecting with her butt and pushing her off balance.

“Off.” She righted herself against the window frame and looked out.

The battle between Joey and the attacker wore on, the two men tearing up the perfection of the neighbor’s sprouting green grass. Joey rolled to his feet and sent a kick to the guy’s midsection. It looked so painful that Lucie jumped back from the window.

Then, a disheartening thought looped inside her. What if the guy Joey was beating to a pulp was some random person coming down the street? Maybe he wasn’t interested in them at all. He could be a neighbor rushing home to an injured child.

The car that originally let the man off came around the corner. Two men bounded out. Okay. Not so random. She analyzed the men. One older, maybe mid-fifties. Gray hair, slicked back. Black slacks and a zip front jacket. The other, maybe around thirty, blond hair, huskier build, white track pants, red piping with the matching jacket.

“Joey!”

As if he could hear her.

She ran to the mudroom, flipped open the cabinet where Mrs. Lutz stored poop bags and seasonal items. The can of bug spray had gotten pushed to the back over the winter, but she snapped it up and sprinted to the front door. With Otis in a crazed barking frenzy, Lucie cracked the door an inch, blocked the dog from escaping and squeezed through.

Bug spray in hand, she charged the three men. “The police are on the way.” A bluff, but the bad guys didn’t know it. All they knew was, their friend lay at Joey’s feet in la-la land.

The men tossed her a questioning glance and spun toward her. One laughed at her.
Laughed at her?

That did it.

The sound of Otis howling from the safety of the house penetrated her mind and whipped like a live wire caught in a hurricane. Every inch of her tingled.

I am so done with these jerks trying to take my dogs
.

She settled her finger on the nozzle of the bug repellent—one she knew caused substantial but temporary eye pain—and sent a blast into the first man’s eyes. He flew backward and rubbed his eyes.
Yeah, go ahead, make it worse.
She turned left, saw guy number two reaching for her—
not a chance
—and gave him a shot to the eyes. He too became blinded and stepped backward.

From the house, Otis launched into another howling fit. “Ahhhh-wooooo!”

The men dragged their half-unconscious friend to the waiting car while Joey’s mouth hurled a steady stream of curses. One thing about her brother, he never backed down. One of the men, his eyes nearly swelled shut, flipped them the bird.

“What?” Lucie waved the can of bug spray. “You want more of this?”

Apparently not. Their attackers jumped into the car, a white Chrysler 300, and Lucie craned her neck to see the license plate. No chance. The car peeled off, its tires squealing as it stormed the car-lined street.

Hopefully, they’d hit one of the city’s world famous potholes and blow a tire. She lost sight of the car and brought her attention to her brother, who dragged her by the elbow toward the house.

She pushed through the door, locked it behind them and, with the sudden crash of adrenaline, took note that Joey’s eye and lip were streaming blood. “You’re hurt.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“That’s not hurt.”

She gave him a once-over. His gray windbreaker was torn at the shoulder and his jeans, in addition to splattered mud stains, were blown out at the knees. What a mess. His battered eye was already turning purple.

Joey pulled his phone from the pocket of his jeans.

“Who’re you calling?”

“Frankie.”

“Why?”

“Because, now I’m mad.” He held the phone to his ear while Lucie ran to the kitchen for paper towels.

“Come in the kitchen. There’s no carpet there.”

Having this whole crisis unfold where half the neighbors on the block could see was bad enough. She didn’t need to get blood on Mrs. Lutz’s carpet. That would require explaining.

You see, Mrs. Lutz, dognappers are stealing my clients. Yes, as a matter of fact, one of them did try to get Otis. Twice. Why didn’t I warn you that your beloved pet could be in danger? Well, I’m hoarding a stolen diamond, but have no idea where it came from.

She waved Joey into the kitchen.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said into his phone. “Call me ASAP. Got a problem.”

“Sit.” Lucie grabbed paper towels and ran them under the faucet. Water splashed off her hands onto the black granite counter. She’d worry about cleaning up when they were done. She turned to Joey, who for some unknown reason remained standing. She waved her arms toward the nightmare of a kitchen chair.

The white upholstered chair was lovely, but fresh blood wouldn’t mix well with this particular style.

How did she get to this place? All she ever wanted was to be an investment banker, and here she sat in her old boss’s home while her brother fought off dognappers and bled on the pristine furniture.

“We need to clean you up. I have a first-aid kit in the car.”

“First-aid kit. That’s funny.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “You always have a plan.”

And what was that supposed to mean? At least
one
of the Rizzo children should be a responsible adult. “There is nothing wrong with being prepared.”

Joey threw his head down on the table and started snoring.

“Watch the blood. Mrs. Lutz will freak if we stain something.”

She grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head up to find him grinning in a way that reminded her of every moment of torment he’d inflicted upon her.

She didn’t have time to smack him around right now. Her schedule was so completely screwed. Plus, Otis still hadn’t had his afternoon poop. That window only stayed open so long, and Lucie didn’t want to risk him doing it in the house. She’d have to walk him until he pooped. That could take an hour.

An hour she didn’t have.

“I need to clean that lip.” She scrunched her nose and dabbed at Joey’s lip while he sent a text.

He finally held up his hand. “Enough, Luce. The hovering is weird. If you weren’t my sister, maybe it would be nice. Now it’s…blech.”

“I was trying to help.”

“Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad.” She stopped. “No. That’s a lie. I am mad. I wanted to help you and you got nasty. To hell with you.”

He laughed. “That’s more like it.”

“Ugh.”

But he gave her a small grin and his eyes held a softness she wasn’t accustomed to seeing. “Sorry.”

Wow. Joey apologizing. A monumental occurrence. Maybe there was a human inside him after all. His phone rang and he glanced at the screen before punching the button.

“Here’s the deal,” he said without bothering to say hello. “Some guy—different guy this time—tried to grab Otis…Yeah, hold up.”

He put the phone on speaker. “You there?”

“Luce,” Frankie said, “are you okay?”

The sound of his voice gave her that instant sense of relief she’d known for years now and a gush of air escaped. Frankie brought sanity when insanity loomed. “I’m okay. Joey is bleeding though.”

“He’ll live.”

“I shot bug spray in their eyes.”

“You did?”

“I had to do something. There were three of them.”

“Holy hell,” Frankie said. “Luce, you have to vary your pattern. Please.”

He knew her well enough to know she liked routine. “These dogs have a schedule, Frankie. I can’t just change it. It’ll confuse them. Poor Otis is probably freaking out right now because I came running back in here with him and he hasn’t pooped yet. Do you know what that can do to a dog?”

“He’ll live, too.”

Clearly, Frankie didn’t give a lick about Otis’s mental health.

“You don’t understand.”

“No. I understand. I
understand
that you are going to get hurt. I
understand
that we need to do something to throw these people a curve. I
understand
that you want to do your job.”

“Hey,” she said.

“Sorry,” Frankie said. “But, please, change your pattern. Each day, change it up again.”

Joey tilted his head. “He’s right.”

“Of course he’s right. There’s just nothing I can do about it. I have a schedule to keep. I have the routes mapped out to maximize my time. If I start messing with it, I’m not going to get all the walks in.”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Frankie said in his holier-than-thou voice. She wanted to wallop him. Just smack him one.

Joey looked down at his phone and spoke directly to Frankie. “What if we get a couple of the guys from my father’s crew to help out?”

No wonder he wouldn’t look at her. “Are you insane?”

“Knew she’d say that,” Frankie said.

“How could they possibly help?”

Joey made a huffing noise like she was a complete idiot. “A show of manpower. If they see five guys around you, they’ll go away.”

Lunacy. Apparently, her brother had missed the last ten years of her hating their father’s lifestyle. That would be the only explanation for him to suggest such a ludicrous plan. She held up a finger. “Even if I liked that idea, there is no way I’d do it, because one of them is bound to tell Dad, and I don’t need him hassling me. He’s already on me because my Notre Dame education is supposedly being
wasted
on the dogs.”

“Plus,” Frankie began, “I promised him she wouldn’t get hurt. Enlisting his guys would make him wonder. I don’t want your father pissed at me.”

Joey nodded. “How about
your
dad’s crew? Will they keep their mouths shut?”

“No,” she said. “I don’t like this plan.”

Particularly because she wasn’t convinced this didn’t have something to do with her father’s business and the people that worked for him. She knew her father would never put her in direct danger. He had always tried to shield her from the life by not discussing it in front of her. No, if this had something to do with her father, he didn’t know about it. The men that worked for him, though? She had no idea.