Frankie's Back in Town (3 page)

“Ms. Raffa.” Jack turned to her.

He didn’t need to say another word. Reaching for the door, she politely refused his bid to hold it for her. She waited while both men strode through then used the moment to address the Hickmans. “Don’t worry. I’ll see what I can find out.”

She slipped into the hallway and shut the door behind her. Neither man said a word while awaiting the elevator but, once the door hissed shut and the elevator began its descent, Francesca took advantage of her captive audience.

“Frankly, gentlemen, you’ve got me worried. I can’t imagine the police department has the time or staff to investigate every reappearing wallet. I assume you’re concerned about something else.”

What other explanation could there be? True, Bluestone Mountain hadn’t grown up all that much in the sixteen years she’d been away, but she read the papers. There was enough crime in and around town to keep the police force busy.

“I’m sure you understand we can’t discuss an open investigation, Ms. Raffa.” Jack sounded cordial enough.

“Precisely the problem since the investigation had been closed the last I heard.” She wasn’t going to be sidetracked. “We outsource our personnel screening with a highly reputable firm. I’ve worked with them in the past with another management company. I need to know if you’re concerned about theft, Chief Sloan. I’m responsible for ensuring the residents’ safety.”

“Do you have reason to suspect any of your employees of dishonesty?” Jack asked.

“If I did, the party or parties in question wouldn’t be on my staff.”

The corners of his mouth twitched as if he was holding back a smile. “You have to do a lot of documenting before you can let an employee go.”

“True enough.” That thought was enough to distract her from his almost grin. Terminating an employee potentially opened up the property to a claim with the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission. Defending one claim cost nearly eighty person-hours in information gathering alone. Greywacke Lodge was a well-staffed facility, but administration had enough on its hands without that additional workload.

“Let me rephrase,” Detective Tanner said. “Are you in the process of documenting to terminate any of your employees for suspicion of theft?”

“No, Detective, I’m not.”

“I understand your concern,” Jack said, and something in that whiskey-warm voice assured her he did. “You have my word that if suspicion falls on any of your staff, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Thank you.”

“Will you tell us about Greywacke Lodge,” Jack asked as the elevator stopped at the first floor.

Francesca moved through the lobby, catching June’s inquisitive gaze as she circled the desk and led the way down the administrative corridor.

“What exactly would you like to know?”

“Who lives here?” The detective cast a meaningful glance around. “Looks like a hotel.”

Francesca smiled. “Greywacke Lodge is a senior-living community, upscale as far as these communities go. Seniors come to enjoy their retirement years in comfort and convenience, and we provide long-term housing and a level of assistance tailored to their individual needs.”

She filled them in on the stats of the property and the lodge’s mission to provide a healthy, successful environment. Residents were kept active under the supervision of medical, lifestyle and activities’ coordinators. The calendar was so full that Francesca had to check it daily to keep up.

“When independent living is no longer a viable option,” she explained, “we also provide assisted living in a nursing center nearby. It’s staffed to meet the more demanding needs of aging and provides rehabilitative services for our residents recovering from hospital stays.”

Detective Tanner took notes as they strolled toward her office, but Jack gave her his undivided attention. The man had a knack for making it seem as if he was hanging on to her every word. A knack that must serve him as well in local politics as it had way back when every high school teacher and coach had adored him. Was he still Bluestone Mountain’s golden boy? She wouldn’t be at all surprised to learn he was.

Striding through the reception area outside her office, Francesca instructed her administrative assistant to make copies of the missing wallet reports. Then she ushered the men into her office and offered them seats.

“The copies won’t take long,” she said.

“Thank you.” Jack smiled, nothing more than a courteous response, but somehow one polite smile reflected charm that could be wielded like a weapon.

Detective Tanner set his notepad on her desk. “Who owns this place?”

“There is no one owner,” she explained, grateful for an excuse to look away from Jack. Honestly, she might have been seventeen again. “It’s the product of a collaborative partnership of companies that specialize in senior living.”

“Their names?” Poising his pen above the notebook, he waited.

Francesca wondered if this was some sort of test. This information was a matter of public record. “Lakeland Developers, University Realty Associates, Northstar Management and Rockport Investment Banking.”

“And you’re with the management company?”

She nodded. “Northstar Management. We staff over two dozen properties around the country.”

The intercom beeped. “That’ll be the copies, gentlemen.”

Jack rose, the sleek gray lines of his suit enhancing the athleticism of the motion. Francesca wondered if the high school football star still played. Was he a coach for his kids? Did he even have kids? Just the thought of this gorgeous man reproducing with the bullying bitch he’d once dated was enough to make Francesca twitch.

“We appreciate your help, Ms. Raffa.” Jack extended his hand. “We’ll be in touch.”

Francesca had been helpful. She’d given a lot more information than she’d gotten in return. Now it was his turn to repay the favor. “What can I tell the Hickmans, Chief Sloan? They’ll be worried, and the captain really doesn’t need any stress right now.”

“Why’s that?” he asked.

“Heart trouble. He spent some time in our nursing center after a hospital stay. He wasn’t home long before he misplaced his wallet.”

“Tell them not to worry. If there’s a problem we’ll advise them on how to proceed.”

Not exactly what she was hoping for, but it wasn’t her place to push. She’d leave that to the Hickmans’ daughter. So she ushered the men from her office, picked up the copies from Yvette before escorting them back to the lobby.

They exchanged polite goodbyes. Francesca waited while they got into an unmarked car. As Jack slipped into the passenger side, he glanced over his shoulder and caught her gaze. And smiled that smile.

Then he slid into the car. The door closed behind him, and the tinted windows shielded him from view. He could be staring right at her for all she knew, so Francesca stood her ground until the car pulled away, refused to give a man with law-enforcement vision the slightest indication that her heart was pounding double-time.

Honestly.

“Never a dull moment around here,” June commented drily when Francesca finally returned to the lobby.

“That’s the truth.” She shrugged off the cold. “Now it’s time to get back to work.”

But as she strode toward her office, she couldn’t stop thinking about Jack. Police chief? She’d have pegged him for a world-class surgeon or a high-powered attorney or some other similarly affluent career. He’d been A-list back in high school. His future had looked like the land of opportunity from where Francesca had been standing.

Then again, when she remembered the way he’d listened to her talk about the lodge, she wasn’t surprised he’d gone into a career that relied heavily on his people skills. Even she, in the seventh circle of social hell, hadn’t missed out
on the whole Jack Sloan mystique. How such a guy had been involved with Karan Kowalski…Francesca shook off the thought, determined not to let the past impact her present. No one knew better than she did that people grew and changed. For all she knew, Jack could be married to Karan now and have six kids. But he hadn’t been wearing a wedding band.

Which meant exactly nothing, she thought stubbornly. Her ex-husband, Nicky, had taken off his ring when it had suited him, as she’d learned too late.

Jeez. What was it about a charming man that melted her from the inside out? One might think her years with Nicky Raffa would have made her immune. Apparently not.

T
HE SUN HAD GONE DOWN
hours ago, but Jack was only now getting around to a workout. Not his preference, but it beat missing one for the third day in a row. He’d just left the office, which was late even for him, and he was no slouch when it came to long days. All the law-enforcement agencies in the area worked closely with the sheriff and the state troopers to keep the Catskills safe. Since crime happened around the clock, Jack had to be available the same.

But he enjoyed his job. The flexibility. And the surprises. No two days were ever alike. Every time he walked through the door or his cell phone rang, some new challenge forced him to juggle commitments with crises in the inadequate amount of time available.

Who’d come up with a twenty-four-hour day, anyway?

Left to Jack, he’d have added at least six more hours—enough for some decent shut-eye.

He wiped the sweat from his neck before moving to the bench for some barbell curls. One nice part of a night-time workout was that he practically had the gym to himself. No waiting for equipment, which was exactly why Tom Censullo, the owner of Pit Bull Gym, kept the place open 24/7. For some diehards, workouts were like crime.

“You do know that normal people are at home watching the news right now?” The familiar, but unexpected voice broke into Jack’s thoughts.

Surprised, he glanced in the direction of the sound to find his dad heading toward him. “You’re telling me you’re not normal?”

His dad tossed a towel on a nearby bench. “That’s news?”

“Maybe not.”

Shrugging, his dad propped a water bottle against the leg of the bench before sitting.

When he’d been younger, Jack had thought his father was the most conventional, and humorless, parent on the planet. Only maturity had helped him appreciate his father’s finer points.

A corporate attorney for a Fortune 500 company, Richard Sloan was as no-nonsense and traditional as his wife was avant-garde. Jack had come to think of them as
big business meets the debutante.
His mother and father were an unusual combination, but they complemented each other in their surprising ways.

His mother had grown up on the Upper East Side. She was the daughter of privilege who cared more for her current crusade than for what might be printed on the society page.

His dad was privileged in his own right. Bluestone Mountain royalty descended from one of the founding miners of the area. As a young man he hadn’t been able to blow out of his hometown for civilization fast enough. He’d headed to Manhattan, where he’d earned a law degree, an enviable job with a company he was still employed by some forty years later, and a wife who’d insisted they rear their only son in the Catskills’ fresh air.

His father commuted to this very day.

“Why are you here so late?” Jack asked.

“Your mother had a fundraiser tonight. She stayed in the city.”

“But you came home?”

His father rolled his eyes, a look Jack knew meant he hadn’t made the trip willingly. “Gus-Gus isn’t doing so well.”

That explained it. Gus-Gus was the patriarch of his mother’s hoard of Maltese dogs. Eighteen years old if he was a day. “Michaela couldn’t have kept an eye on him?”

“Your mother would have cancelled the whole event if she could have gotten away with it. The governor doesn’t have another free slot in her schedule for six months.”

“She didn’t want to leave Gus-Gus at Michaela’s mercy.” The family’s live-in housekeeper didn’t have the same soft spot for dogs that Jack’s mother had. “She’s afraid Michaela won’t hear him if he has trouble breathing. And if he does go downhill, she
knows
Michaela won’t usher him from life in the style to which he’s accustomed.”

“She trusts you?”

“I have detailed instructions.”

Maltese dogs, both old and young, were serious business in the Sloan house. His mother drove a gas-guzzling Suburban just so she could transport her dogs back and forth between Bluestone and the family apartment in the city. She’d mentioned on several occasions that Gus-Gus didn’t travel as easily as he had in his youth, so Jack knew it must have killed her to leave him behind with one paw in the grave. “If you’re on death watch, then what are you doing here?”

“He was breathing fine when I left,” his father scoffed. “Just don’t mention you saw me.”

“No problem.”

His father adjusted the pin on the weights and got down to business. “What about you? Shouldn’t you be with Jessica Mathis at the gallery opening? I thought your mother said it was tonight, which is why she didn’t ask you to babysit the dog.”

Jack supposed it was good to know she’d have trusted him. “Had to cancel. Working an investigation with Randy.”

His father gave a low whistle. “Better come up with a better reason than that. Your mother will be asking how your date went. Trust me. She likes Jessica.”

“Don’t want to hear it.”

His father chuckled. “A heads-up then because if you think your mother is ever going to back down, think again.”

“She says she wants me to be happy,” Jack said.

“You’re thirty-four, Jack, and single. She doesn’t think you
can
be happy.”

“Run interference for me. Remind her that she wouldn’t settle for coming in second to your job.”

His dad shook his head. “Don’t know a woman who would.”

“Don’t kid yourself. Lots of women don’t mind the trade-off. Otherwise no doctor on this planet would be married. Pastors or professional athletes, either. She’s out there. Trust me. I just haven’t found her yet.”

“So I should tell your mother to cool her jets because you’re looking for the perfect woman.”

“Yeah.”

Something about that seemed to amuse his dad, who smiled and said, “I’ll do what I can, but I’m not sure anything will work. Your mother’s biological clock is ticking.”

“What started all this up again?”

“Kelly had twins. You’d think those babies were our grandchildren with the way your mother’s been shopping. She even had a sign made for Kelly that reads Twins and Another. What a Lucky Mother!”

Jack sighed.

Kelly was a long-time family friend, a car pool buddy from elementary school. There was no way Jack could
compete with Kelly’s ten-year marriage, three kids and white picket fence.

His dad knew it, too. He set the weights into place with a light clank and faced Jack. “Maybe I’ll try the doctor angle. Sacrificing yourself for the good of mankind should appeal to her.”

“Sounds noble.” Jack chuckled. “Protecting the streets is saving lives. Trust me.”

“That’s what you’re doing over at Greywacke Lodge? Saving lives?”

Jack paused midcurl and let the barbell rest on his thigh. “How’d you hear about Greywacke Lodge?”

“Your grandfather is close friends with Judge Pierce. Remember, they’re both past Grand Knights?”

“Got it.” Bluestone’s good old boy connection.

“So does your grandfather. He’s decided your investigation is another reason not to consider senior living.”

At eighty-two, Jack’s grandfather was definitely past the point where living alone was good for his health and everyone else’s stress levels. If his mother and Michaela didn’t bring food every day, the stubborn old guy would starve.

He couldn’t get out much anymore. His failing eyesight made driving unsafe even when the roads weren’t half iced over in the dead of winter. Jack squeezed in time for visits whenever he was in that part of town, but he could tell by how reluctant his grandfather was to let him leave again that those visits weren’t nearly enough.

“So what’s Granddad waiting for?” Jack asked. “You to invite him to move into your place?”

“Already did. Makes sense. At least we’d have Michaela to keep her eyes on him. It’s not like your mom or I are around enough to get in his way.”

“What’s the problem then?”

“Doesn’t want to lose his independence. If he gives up
the house…” He let the thought trail off. “But from what I’m hearing about theft at Greywacke Lodge, maybe that isn’t the answer, either.”

“Theft?”

His father paused in between reps and leaned back on the bench, dragging the towel across his face. “Isn’t someone stealing the residents’ credit cards?”

“Granddad said that?”

They exchanged a glance. “Then you’re not investigating the woman who runs the place?”

Jack shook his head. “Haven’t even ruled out the card owner.”

“Oh. Your grandfather must have misunderstood. Not like that hasn’t happened before.”

“Maybe not. You’re not the first person to mention this.”

“Didn’t you go to school with the woman who runs the place, Jack?”

“Yeah. Same year, anyway.”

“So you weren’t friends? She never came over to the house?”

“No, Dad. She never came over to the house.”

His father nodded, looking relieved. Too relieved. This, to Jack’s surprise, annoyed him. A lot. A woman whose name hadn’t yet come up in this investigation shouldn’t be speeding into first place on his suspect list.

“What did Granddad say about her?”

“Not much. Just that she’d been a troublemaker, so no one’s surprised there’s trouble now she’s back. I can’t imagine your grandfather knew the girl. I assume the judge said something.”

Jack set the weights on the rack and took a moment to stretch out his upper back. He let the quiet of the gym, marked only by the rhythmic whisper and clang of the weights and his father’s controlled breathing, deflect his irritation.

“Like I said, we haven’t even ruled out the card owner yet. I’d appreciate it if you’d keep all this to yourself. This fire doesn’t need any fanning.” He leveled a meaningful gaze at his dad. “You’re getting that straight from the horse’s mouth.”

“Understood.”

Good enough for Jack. He’d do his bit to knock down speculation about Frankie. A lot of years had passed since high school, and the woman he’d met didn’t strike him as a criminal. He had a good gut instinct, one he trusted.

Frankie might have been a troublemaker once, but she’d been helpful and professional when he’d been at Greywacke Lodge. He liked how she’d handled the Hickmans, clarifying details and reassuring them when they’d been unsettled. She was also unexpectedly beautiful, and he hadn’t been able to resist digging out his old high school yearbook to jog his memory.

Everyone of the class of ’93 had looked ridiculous in their senior pictures. Himself included. A rite of passage, he guessed. Frankie’s young face had been framed by fuzzy hair, the same caramel color it was now—not quite blond, not quite brown, but somewhere in between. But that was where the similarities had ended. Her gaze had been narrowed and her mouth set tight. As if she hadn’t had all that much to smile about.

But now she was full of easy smiles, courteous professional smiles for him and Randy. Warm, reassuring smiles for the Hickmans. Appreciative, friendly smiles for the assistant who’d made copies at her request.

Jack wasn’t sure why he’d noticed, except that he’d been on red alert because folks were already implicating her. Or maybe he’d been reconciling the beautiful professional with the girl who’d once sold forged hall passes.

He reached for the barbell when a cell phone rang. Jack
didn’t recognize the ringtone. His father set the weights down too fast, and the resulting crash echoed through the quiet gym. He fumbled for the phone buried beneath a sweaty towel.

“I hope this isn’t the damned dog.” He snapped open the phone and said, “Hey, what’s up?”

Jack realized his mother must be on the other end when his father said, “No, he’s hanging in there, hon. Don’t worry. I’ll text you if anything changes, but it won’t. Not until you get back. Gus-Gus is tough.”

Jack couldn’t help but smile, which earned a scowl from his father. “Just enjoy the night and give my regrets to the governor. I’ll see you in the morning.”

After disconnecting the call, he dropped the phone on the bench. “I’d better not push my luck. She’ll probably call Michaela to double check.”

“I hope Gus-Gus doesn’t bite it on your watch.”

“For real.” Swinging his legs around the bench, he stood. “This was good. We should meet here more often. You hear me?”

“I hear you.” Jack factored a few more hours into his perfect day. “I’ll make time.”

“I’m serious, Jack. There’s more to life than work.”

So he’d been told. But right now all Jack could think about was work, and the woman that too many people were convinced should be his number one suspect.