Dog Collar Knockoff (16 page)

Just stop it.
“Seriously,” Lucie said. “A truck? You’re telling me they literally fell off of a truck?”

For years in this neighborhood whenever Lucie inquired about merchandise with a dubious origin—meaning they were stolen—she was told “It fell off the truck.”

As if it were an accident that four cases of cigarettes or CDs suddenly rolled out of the cargo space of an eighteen-wheeler.

Tim snorted. “Not exactly. A few months back, a truck was being unloaded in an alley behind a privately owned boutique. Two men pulled up, held the driver at gunpoint, and took as many boxes as would fit in their SUV.”

“Five boxes, right?”

“Six, but who’s counting?”

“Me, Tim. I’m counting.” She huffed out a breath and waved her hands. “Whoever stole those boxes has been hanging on to them for months and now they suddenly show up in my shop?”

“Appears that way. And, just so you know, the back window of the store was unlocked.”

“It was?”

“Yeah. Joey told me. After they arrested you, he went back inside to make sure the cops only took those five boxes. He spotted the unlocked window while he was on overwatch.”

Now this was news. Had she ever even bothered to check the windows? She thought back over the last week. Nope. Never checked them. She’d made sure to always double-check the locks, but never once considered the windows. Why would she? She hadn’t opened them and just assumed they were secure.

Shame on me.
“So, someone could have climbed in the window, unlocked the door and hid the boxes.”

“Yep. Have you had a beef with anyone? Someone mad at you?”

At this, she rolled her eyes. Tim was a sweetie, but he had zero experience dating a criminal’s daughter. “You do remember my last name, don’t you? Half this state has a beef with my father. And everyone around here knows how protective he is of me.”

“Huh.”

“Don’t sound so shocked. My father is a lot of things, but he’s not a man who doesn’t protect his loved ones. No one messes with his family. He’s a maniac about it. Everyone knows to leave me—and Joey to a certain extent—alone. And someone storing stolen merchandise in my store would not sit well.”

Tim relaxed back, drummed his fingers on his thighs. “Someone could have set you up to flip your father off.”

Score one for the cute detective. Lucie snatched her cell phone off the coffee table and punched the screen. “This is one for Joey.”

She pressed the speakerphone button and waited. On the second ring, Joey picked up.

“Hey. Did you see Mom yet?”

“You’re on speaker. Just so you know. I haven’t seen Mom. She left a note. She’s out with Delores. Probably shaking people down, wanting to know who set me up.”

Joey groaned. “Jeez, that Delores. She’s a tiger. She grabbed my ass this morning. What am I supposed to do with that?”

Tim burst out laughing.

“Who’s that? O’Brien?”

“Yes. It’s him,” Lucie said. “Joey, listen up. Tim just told me those track suits came off the back of a truck.”

“Sure they did.”

“No. Literally. The truck was being unloaded and two guys robbed it.”

Her brother, being her brother, laughed.

Such an ass. “It is
not
funny!”

At her raised voice, Tim’s eyebrows hitched up. She wasn’t allowed to raise her voice? Nice, petite girls sometimes came with tempers. Even if it didn’t come out often, she was most definitely one of those girls.

“Okay, Luce. It’s not funny. Why are you calling me?”

“We need to know who stole those boxes.”

“I’m working on it. Nobody is talking. I think this is one for Dad.”

Without a doubt, he’d lost his mind. Just left it in the street somewhere. “Are you insane?”

“You just figured that out? If you want answers, Dad’s the guy. Besides, he was just moaning that you haven’t gotten your skinny butt up to see him.”

“That’s because he’s mad about…”

Frankie
. She met Tim’s gaze and held it. He cocked his head and studied her with those deep green eyes, clearly wondering what she didn’t want to say in front of him.

But some things needed to stay unsaid. Telling a man, a potential love interest, that her father expected another man to be his son-in-law wouldn’t do anyone any good.

“Yeah, I know.” This from Joey, who obviously understood what she didn’t want voiced. “But if you want fast answers, Dad’s the guy. Whoever is involved with this is not gonna tell
me
where those boxes came from.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? That’s it? No argument?”

“No. No argument. For once, I’ll agree with you. Don’t do anything. I’ll call you back.”

She poked at the screen and slouched back in her chair, hands on top of her head. Stuck. That’s what she was. Without her father’s help, they might never figure out where those ugly tracksuits came from. Which meant, not only visiting her father, but telling him about her arrest. Oh, that would not be good.

Maybe she’d just call him with this information.

Chicken.

Tim touched her knee. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking I need to get on the list to visit my father. And won’t that be fun?”

A triple-staccato knock sounded at the front door and Lucie bolted upright in her chair.
Oh. My. God.
That distinctive knock belonged to one person and one person only and a surge of panic had her contemplating sprinting out the back door.

She sat for what had to be a good thirty seconds just staring at Tim until Frankie knocked again.

Tim pointed at the door. “Uh, you want me to get that?”

Lawdy, no.

She shook her head, but didn’t move.

“Luce!” Frankie called. “You okay? Joey said you were coming home.”

Tim’s gaze shot to the door and then back to her and something in those luscious green eyes sparked. Yes, handsome man, that would be my boyfriend—ex-boyfriend. Whatever! Damned Joey! Why would he tell Frankie that? Now she had to answer the door. She hopped up, pulling away from Tim because—sweet, baby Jesus—she never imagined this scenario.

“I’m… uh… just going to get that. Be right back.”

He spread his hands wide. “Guessing that’s Frankie. Should I go?”

“No!”

Absolutely not. The next few minutes would be awkward, but it wasn’t like Frankie found them naked and swinging from the chandelier. And wow, that was a vision. And definitely something she might like to try. With Tim.
Whew
.

Lucie swung the door open, found Frankie just about to bang on it again. “Hi. Sorry.”

He pushed by her and stepped in. “No problem. What’s this about you being arrested? Whoa.”

He skidded to a stop just as Tim stood and for a second the air in the room disappeared. Whammo. Gone. The good news was they might all suffocate and die and she wouldn’t have to figure a way out of this little love triangle.

Frankie held his hand out to Tim. “You’re the CPD detective who handled the dognappings, right?”

“Yeah. Tim O’Brien.”

The two men shook hands and suddenly Lucie had to pee. Badly. Flop-peeing again. Terrific.

Frankie let go of Tim’s hand, turned back to Lucie, and shifted his eyes left in a way that screamed why-is-this-guy-here?

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

And, yep, just a wee-bit awkward. How would she explain this? Why would Tim even be here? Aside from the fact that she’d gone out with him and this wasn’t necessarily a meeting related to her arrest.

The two men stared down at her. What? Was she supposed to say something? Other than announcing she really had to pee? She crossed one foot over the other and wobbled a little. Frankie and Tim each grabbed one of her arms to keep her from falling and all that bottled panic revealed itself in a burst of hysterical laughter.
Please let me die right here.

Frankie’s gaze stayed glued to Tim’s hand a second and then—uh-oh—slowly crawled up her arm to her face. He knew. Just standing there, the tension so thick it could crack someone’s skull, Frankie had figured out Tim was probably not here on police business.

“Luce,” Frankie said, “am I interrupting something?”

How the hell would she answer that? If she said no, she’d insult Tim, who’d done nothing but help her and make her feel things she hadn’t felt in way too long. If she said yes, she’d be telling Frankie, in the most inconsiderate way, that she and Tim were… What? She didn’t know what they were. Not yet anyway. And if she didn’t understand it herself, how would Frankie?

Total pickle.

Tim let go of her arm and stepped back. “No,” he said. “I was just leaving. I heard about Lucie’s arrest and thought it might be related to a case I’m working.”

And, yes!
Tim O’Brien, you are an amazing man.

“And is it?” Frankie asked.

Tim shook his head. “No.” He turned to Lucie. “Thank you though.”

No, Detective. Thank
you
. “Of course,” she said. “Thank you for coming by. I’ll let you know if I hear anything else.”

Tim strode out and Frankie dropped onto his favorite chair. The winged-back one. “What case is he working that involves you?”

If she sensed suspicion in his tone, she couldn’t quite blame him. Then again, Frankie was a worrier, so he could have been just obsessing over her arrest. “It’s nothing.” She patted his shoulder. “Thanks for coming by. I’ll fill you in on the morning’s events, but right now, I need to use the bathroom.”

Damned flop-peeing. Forget the flop-peeing. What about this sudden love triangle? This had been a humdinger of a day so far. And something told her, now that Frankie had seen her and Tim together, that things would only get worse.

Eventually, she and Frankie needed to decide what they were doing. For both their sakes.

Eventually.

Not today. Today, she needed to figure out where those tracksuits came from.

O
n Sunday morning,
Lucie marched through the visitor’s entrance of the Bruce Correctional Facility, a medium-security prison just over the Wisconsin border. In terms of a weekend commute, it wasn’t horrible. Still, the idea of her father being locked up like some sort of animal sickened her. The main reason she didn’t visit often. Was it fair to her father? Probably not. But walking through those doors, being searched, and having her belongings X-rayed wasn’t fair to her, either. His lifestyle, not hers, had put him in this place.

Harsh thinking perhaps, but the Rizzos were accustomed to harsh realities.

“Morning,” the guard said, waving her through. “You’re good.”

She clipped her visitor’s pass to the collar of her baggy shirt. One lesson she’d learned early on: no tight or revealing clothing. Provocative dress could send the prisoners, many of whom had a definite lack of female visitors, into a frenzy.
No thanks.

A guard escorted her into the visitation area, a large cement-walled room that resembled a high school gym more than a prison. The smell certainly fit. Stale yet antiseptic.

How Dad stood it, she’d never know. But she reminded herself, he’d be out of here soon and would have all the fresh air he wanted. If only she’d managed not to have to come back here for another two weeks. This couldn’t wait though. And she’d admit part of her, down deep, still wanted to be Daddy’s little girl and make him happy.

She sat at the corner table because, according to Dad, it backed against a wall with only one other beside it where people could eavesdrop.
The good table.
Lucie blew out a breath and shook her head.
I hate this place.

Her father entered the room with two other prisoners. He found her and the side of his mouth lifted. As usual, he wore orange prison scrubs that hung on his lean frame. Hopefully when he got out and enjoyed Mom’s cooking again, he’d regain the twenty pounds he’d lost. He could also stand to give up the buzz cut that made him appear downright skeletal. Before prison he’d had an amazing head of thick, salt-and-pepper hair.

Really, what she wanted was her father back. Flaws and all. The man moving toward her dressed like an orange Popsicle wasn’t him.

“Hi, Dad.”

He slid onto the bench across from her. By now, she knew not to try and touch him. Contact with the prisoners was forbidden. Every now and again, because her Dad was—believe it or not—an affectionate man, he touched her hand, but it always earned him a glare from the guard. Overall, he’d been a model prisoner. The guards treated him with respect, looked him in the eye when they spoke, and he did the same.

“Hi, baby girl.”

Baby girl. Her childhood nickname. And one he rarely called her anymore. Another testament to their strained relationship. With him coming home, they needed a truce. Even with Joey moving to Frankie’s, it would be close quarters. For her mother’s sake, she didn’t want them at war.

“I can’t wait to get out of here, Lucie. First thing, I’m gonna grab your mother and we’re going out to the lake. I need sun and fresh air.”

Lucie nodded. When it came to being by the water, she and Dad were of the same mind. “She’d like that I think.”

“I’m glad you came today. Didn’t expect to see you until I got home.”

“I know. And honestly, that was my plan. I hate seeing you in this place.” She held up her hands. “But I don’t want to argue over it.”

He shrugged. “Then there’s a reason you’re here.”

“There is.”

“Frankie?”

Oh, Lord! Once again everything revolved around Frankie—Mr. Perfect in her dad’s eyes—and whether they’d ever get married. “No, Dad. We’re still on the outs. Sorry.”

“He’s a good—”

“Yes. I know he’s a good boy. This time it was his doing, so save the lecture.”

Dad’s lips bowed down as he took that in. “That’s… surprising.”

“Yep.” She’d forego telling him about the Irish cop. One thing at a time. “There is a reason I’m here. You know I rented Carlucci’s for my new Coco Barknell headquarters, right?”

“Yeah. Joey mentioned something about it when he was here the other day.”

Joey, bless his devoted heart, visited their dad three times a week. Without fail. Mom didn’t even come that often.

“He’s helping me with the contractors. We’ve been getting along. He’s actually helping me run the dog walking side of the business.”