1 Dog Collar Crime (7 page)

“That’s what I want to know.” She turned to Joey. “Well?”

“You think I put it there? Newsflash, genius; if I wanted to hide a real diamond, I’d do a hell of a lot better than putting it in your craft crap.”

“That makes sense,” Ro said. “He’s no dummy.”

All true. Never hurt to ask though.

“Frankie?” Lucie asked. “Have you heard anything about this? Maybe from the guys at Petey’s?”

“Hell no. I’d have told you.”

Of course he would have, but desperation made a girl think odd things and Frankie holding out on her would be odd. Lucie sighed. “We need to figure out who this diamond belongs to.”

“Could it be your dad’s?” Frankie asked.

“I doubt it,” Joey said. “He’d have told me in case I had to move it.”

Lucie twisted her fingers together. “Neither of you has heard about a diamond? Nothing?”

“Not me,” Frankie said. “But the guys don’t talk about that stuff in front of me.”

Joey looked pensive. “I’d have heard.”

“It has to be stolen. Why else would it be hidden in my things?”

And wasn’t that a screwed up scenario. Harboring stolen jewelry. They could all go to prison when they hadn’t even known about the stone. The police would never believe that.

Not from the Rizzo clan.

Lucie put her hand over her mouth in case the screaming in her head broke free. How the hell would they get out of this? Joe Rizzo’s family involved in stolen jewelry. Nobody would bat an eye.

Trying to contain her internal hysteria, she turned to Joey. “We can’t tell Mom. Whatever this is, she can’t be involved. I don’t want her to worry. She’s been through enough with Dad.”

“Luce,” Frankie said in his deep, strong voice. “Calm down.”

So, apparently, containing her hysteria wasn’t working. Screw it. “How can I calm down? This is a nightmare.”

“No kidding there,” Ro said.

Lucie pressed both palms into her forehead. “We have to figure out how that stone got into the attic.”

* * *

That night, Frankie stopped by the Rizzo’s after finishing at the newspaper. Lucie couldn’t remember a time she’d been so happy to see him. Simply put, Frankie deflated chaos.

They stood in the dining room, staring at the newly discovered diamond in his hand.

“Wow,” he said.

Total understatement. She’d stepped in deep doo-doo this time. She leaned her head against his shoulder, felt the soft cotton of his dress shirt against her cheek and took sanctuary in the feel of him next to her. “This stone has to be what the dognappers are after.”

Frankie held the diamond against the light. “I don’t know.”

The wall clock chimed midnight. She could sleep for a week. “I checked my files. The stolen dogs all have coats and collars I made.”

Using his index finger, Frankie rolled the diamond in his hand. “Are we sure this is real?”

“According to Ro.”

“And she became a gemologist when?”

Lucie eyeballed him. “This is Ro. She doesn’t need a degree to spot a real stone.”

He stared at her as if one of her eyes was hanging out. “And you guys went through all the other stones in the bag?”

“Yes. All fakes.”

Frankie laughed, but the sound—that little bit of sarcasm—expressed itself as anger. “Someone’s mutt could have been walking around with fifteen-carats on a collar.”

If Lucie had used the real diamond, yes. She didn’t want to think about what would have happened then. “I need to hunt down every item I’ve sold and check for real diamonds.”

“That’ll be a job.”

“I don’t have a choice. If the dognappings are related to this, I can’t have my clients in danger.”

At some point, with any luck, she’d find it all humorous. Lately, though, luck had been running last in the stretch. She grunted and dropped into one of the dining room chairs.

“You okay?” Frankie asked.

Not so much
.
No
. “I don’t think so.”

Stepping behind her, he set his hands on her shoulders and drove his fingers into aching muscles. “Your shoulders are tight.”

“Can you blame me? I lost my job, moved back to the nuthouse and now I’m into diamond trafficking. I can handle the job loss and the nuthouse. The stolen jewelry taxes me.”

Side note: check the penalties for unknowingly harboring stolen diamonds
.

“First off,” Frankie said, “we don’t know anything is stolen.”

Despite the fact that his magic thumbs were plowing through the knots in her shoulders, Lucie shifted toward him. “You think this thing is a family heirloom that accidentally wound up in a box in the attic?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Oh my God.”

“What?”

Lucie bolted from the chair and headed for the stairs. “I didn’t check the attic for more stones. I have another box up there.”

“What about your mom?”

“She’s in her room. I’ll tell her I’m getting supplies down. She won’t think anything of it.”

Ten minutes later, they dumped the box on the dining room table and were sifting through each of the plastic bags. Lucie wasn’t sure she’d recognize a real diamond, but at least now, she knew how to test anything suspicious.

She studied a large stone, dragged it against her trusty Notre Dame glass. Nothing.
Thank you
. “Frankie, I should be down at police headquarters telling them about the diamond. But if I do that, it’ll look like someone in my family—namely my father—is into something hinky. And what if, insane as it might be, my father is innocent? The cops will never believe him.”

Being a bright guy, Frankie held up his hands, obviously surrendering to the idea that, as much as the situation stunk, she was right.

“How about I talk to my father about this? He’ll find out who the diamond belongs to and kick someone’s ass for being stupid enough to hide it in your house.”

“No. I don’t want him involved. It’ll just make things worse.”

Nobody messed with a boss. Or his family. And if they did, they suffered. One way or another, they suffered. She didn’t want to live with that. Nope. Not gonna happen. They were on their own with this one.

And she had clients to think about. What a mess. “I can’t put the dogs in danger by walking them. I could be a
target
.”

Frankie scratched his knuckles along the side of his face. “Hang on. Either Joey or I will walk with you. If you get dogjacked again, we’ll nab the guy. I promise you, Luce, no other dogs will get boosted while you’re walking them.”

Chapter Five

The sound of Aretha Franklin belting R-E-S-P-E-C-T pierced the darkened quiet of Lucie’s bedroom. She shot to a sitting position and snatched her cell phone off the nightstand.

“Hello?” Her sleep clogged voice grumbled like a stalling tractor and she cleared her throat. “Hello?”

“Lucie, this is Elaine Bernard. They’re back.”

Huh? Who? Lucie jabbed two fingers into her eyes, then glanced at the clock. Six-oh-five.

They’re back
. Please. Let her be referring to the dogs. “Josie and Fannie?”

“Yes. Lenny called a few minutes ago and said he had them in the lobby. Apparently, they were scratching the door to get in.”

The thumping behind Lucie’s eyes gave way to waterworks. She swiped at the tears. What a wuss. Her father would be disappointed.

“They look fine,” Mrs. Bernard said, “but we’re taking them to the vet to be sure.”

The poor things had been through an ordeal. They could have internal injuries. Or be traumatized. Dogs could suffer horrible post-traumatic stress. She had to make it up to them. “Would you like me to do that for you? No charge of course. I feel horrible about what happened.”

Mrs. Bernard got quiet. Why would this woman trust Lucie with her dogs again? Mr. Darcy hadn’t. Why should anyone trust her with their dogs? She flopped on the bed and absorbed the screeching sound of her backup job careening to a halt.

“Oh, well—” Yep, here it comes, the kick to the curb. “—if you wouldn’t mind, that would actually help me out. We’re not blaming you for what happened. We know you love the girls.”

Maybe the backup job had a chance. “Absolutely.”

How the hell she’d get the other dogs walked
and
take the girls to the vet, Lucie had no idea. “Do you know what time?”

“No. The vet doesn’t open until eight. I’ll let you know.”

Lucie disconnected and smacked the phone against her lips. Suddenly she needed an assistant dog walker. Unfortunately for her—or him, depending on how they looked at it—the only other person who knew the route, because he’d done it with her yesterday, was Joey. Asking him would require that she not only swallow her pride, but also digest it.
Ugh.

Coco Barknell
.

The little voice,
Frankie’s
voice, tickled her thoughts and warmed her. This dog walking thing might have been a small side job, but it provided income. Plus, she had to protect her reputation. Mrs. Bernard could have easily blamed Lucie for the loss of her dogs, yet she chose to trust her.

A good businesswoman would cherish that trust. Even if it meant dealing with Joey.

An hour later, she heard the toilet flush through two closed doors and, assuming it was Joey, cornered him. At least he’d thrown a pair of shorts on his otherwise naked body. Well, she assumed he was naked beneath the shorts. All he ever talked about was how he slept naked because he turned into an inferno in pajamas. As if she wanted to know that. Ew.

“Are you out of your flippin’ mind?” Joey asked from the bathroom doorway.

“You owe me.”

“For what?”

“For every rotten thing you ever did to me. And, if you don’t help, I’ll tell Dad when I visit him this weekend.”

Talk about hitting a man where he lives, but their father finding out Joey wasn’t doing right by his family would give her brother loose bowel movements. Lucie shook her head. “And you know Dad. He’ll hold his two fingers together and say ‘this is you, this is your brother. These fingers better never come apart.’”

Total blackmail. It should have sickened her. Should have made her feel like pond scum.

Eh, she didn’t mind so much. For once,
she
held the power.

Joey put her in a headlock and gave her a noogie that would scar her scalp. “You are a sneaky little witch.”

“Ow. That hurts. Knock it off.”

He pushed her away. “I’m not riding that butt-ugly scooter. You’ll have to pay my parking.”

Parking wouldn’t be cheap, but she supposed that was fair. She held out her hand to seal the deal. “Agreed.”

Joey clasped her hand, gave it a hard pump. “Deal.”

She wanted to think the angels were singing because she and Joey had actually agreed on something—without screaming—but the only feeling was a warm blood rush. Maybe her brother
was
human.

“By the way,” Lucie said. “Did you find a spreadsheet of mine? I had handwritten notes on it.”

Joey twisted his mouth. “Why would I care about some spreadsheet?”

“I can’t find it. And Mom hasn’t seen it.”

“Sorry, kid.” He went back to his room and shut the door.

“You need to walk Otis at ten o’clock.”

“Whatever.”

“I’m serious.”

No answer. Clearly, he understood. She smacked her hands together. Now all she had to do was figure out what happened to that damned spreadsheet.

* * *

Lucie arrived at the Bernards’ just after nine o’clock and found Mrs. B. talking with Detective O’Brien. Him again. Great. The detective wore a black suit with a crisp white shirt and Mrs. B. looked equally polished in a pair of cream slacks and a matching blazer. Lucie, in her jeans and Notre Dame sweatshirt, missed the memo about the dress code for this party.

Josie and Fannie barreled down the hallway and landed in front of Lucie, dancing by her feet and pawing at them. She dropped to her knees and gave each dog an enthusiastic rub. “Hi, girls. I’m so happy to see you.”

An onslaught of licking ensued and Lucie giggled at the feel of their warm tongues against her neck.

“I guess they’re happy to see you, Ms. Rizzo.” Detective O’Brien smiled, and the ease of it made Lucie think he might be a dog person.

“I’m happy to see
them
.”

“How’s the shoulder today?”

“A little sore.” Lucie set the girls back and stood. “Party is over, girls. We need to leave in a few minutes.”

The girls scampered down the marbled hallway into one of the bedrooms, and Lucie turned to Detective O’Brien. Looking at those green eyes and freckles would never be hard labor, but the man wasn’t her type. Besides, he always looked at her as though he wanted to figure out her angle.

No angle. Just an out-of-work banker trying to flee her father’s reputation.

“Do you have any idea why anyone would take the dogs?” Lucie asked.
Talk about a fishing expedition
.